


bleeding heart

by strangelysweet



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Persona 5
Genre: :), Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst, Blood and Injury, But also, Character Death, Domestic Fluff, Hunger Games, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Murder, Mutual Pining, Protectiveness, Romantic Tension, Soft Amamiya Ren, Violence, enjoy, evil author, it's in a dream sequence but still, tenderly bandaging ur bro's wounds after he defends u from a crazy girl with an ax, this has been in my wips box since last year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:09:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28153641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangelysweet/pseuds/strangelysweet
Summary: "Pretty, huh?" He says, raising a hand to shield his eyes.Goro shrugs. "Guess so. As pretty as a killing dome can get."A slight smile vanishes from the boy's face as he bites his lip. He's the gentle type, Goro thinks, and he won't last another day if he keeps himself out in the open without any weapons. He knows that the last thing he needs is to adopt a stray, and keeping him around would mean watching two backs, not just one, but this boy could brutally die if he doesn't keep an eye out. The sun sprays light across the boy's face as Goro peers at him, scrutinizing his options. He knows his medicine, which would be useful, and he can identify plants. And, he thinks, if he can take him under his wing, he'll get a lot of sponsors."Come with me." He says, nodding upstream to the forest.----Goro takes a particularly fragile tribute under his wing for the Games, not realizing that it's rather easy to get attached.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 10
Kudos: 109





	bleeding heart

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Death, Violence, Vomiting, Injury Detail, Blood.
> 
> ahaha, you thought you could run from my angst? fools. all of you. there is nothing but suffering in my drafts.

The river runs cold between Goro's fingers as he washes the blood from his hands. The hunting knife strapped to his leg seeps blood into the scabbard, and as the sun rises, he looks out over the cliff. The waterfall is stained red as the District 1 girl floats downstream, turning the foam pink. Goro looks over his shoulder, then walks over to the boy from District 11, offering him a hand up. 

"You should be more careful. Careers take this seriously." He says, hauling the boy to his feet. 

His dark eyes scan Goro's face for anything malicious, and after deciding he's safe, he cracks a rueful smile. "And you don't?" 

"I do," Goro replies, "I just don't do it for the honor."

The waterful crashes about a mile down, and the spray cools the breeze, scenting the bloodied air with the smell of clean water. The dark-haired boy looks to the sunrise, squinting slightly. 

"Pretty, huh?" He says, raising a hand to shield his eyes. 

Goro shrugs. "Guess so. As pretty as a killing dome can get." 

A slight smile vanishes from the boy's face as he bites his lip. He's the gentle type, Goro thinks, and he won't last another day if he keeps himself out in the open without any weapons. He knows that the last thing he needs is to adopt a stray, and keeping him around would mean watching two backs, not just one, but this boy could brutally die if he doesn't keep an eye out. The sun sprays light across the boy's face as Goro peers at him, scrutinizing his options. He knows his medicine, which would be useful, and he can identify plants. And, he thinks, if he can take him under his wing, he'll get a lot of sponsors. 

"Come with me." He says, nodding upstream to the forest. 

Hesitantly, the boy follows him, unscrewing the lid of his flask and dipping it in the stream. Goro stops, waiting for him to finish. The boy's hands aren't the kind of hands he expected from a farmer. His fingers are long and elegant, like a piano player's. Clean of scars or blisters, he doesn't look like he's done a day of work in his life. 

"What's your name?" The boy asks, getting to his feet. 

"Goro. I'm from District 5." He uncrosses his arms from over his chest, trying to make himself seem more cordial. The last thing he needed was to make him feel threatened. 

"Nice to meet you, Goro," He says, "I'm Ren." 

For the first day they're together, Goro keeps Ren at arm's length, keeping him quiet. As expected, Ren is gentle and lacks the protective shell Goro's learned to put up, so instead, he bares his soul to the world like a domesticated animal. What he is useful for, Goro learns, is thievery. Quick-footed and light-fingered, Ren easily steals supplies from other camps without trouble, taking what they need. He fetches Goro a bow, taking the quiver of arrows as well. 

"Can you shoot?" He asks, peeling an apple with a knife as they sit around their meager fire, watching him re-string the bow. 

Goro looks up, raising an eyebrow. "What do you think?" 

Ren's eyes fall to the apple, bowing his head to hide the flush of embarrassment. "Sorry." 

The fire licks the air between them, blurring the lines of Ren's face. Peering down over the flames, Goro sees he's peeled the apple into one long ribbon. He wonders why a useless farmhand would be so good with a knife. Ren slices the peeled apple in half, handing one segment to Goro. 

"Here." He says, wrapping the ribbons up in a leaf, like a package, and putting it in his pack. 

Taking the apple and biting into it, Goro eyes Ren as he does the same, expecting the bitter tang of poison. Instead, the sweet taste of fresh fruit meets his tongue, and he swallows, running his tongue over his lips. Ren's eyes are dark enough to consume the light of the fire and spit it back out again, but they hold no malice. If he's being honest, Goro doesn't really know how to describe the way Ren looks at him. It's nothing like he's ever seen before. 

Goro really learns to trust Ren after someone poisons him. He suspects it's the other, weaselly-looking District 11 girl, but if he's being honest, he can't really wrap his head around much. The fever hikes up at night, and Ren sits next to him, crushing up sweet-smelling leaves in a mortar and pestle he got from the cornucopia. If Goro strains his ears, he thinks he hears humming, but his senses blend together into a disagreeable cocktail, so Goro's not so sure if he's hallucinating or not. 

Ren's hand touches his face, pleasantly cool and smelling like honey. "Goro? Can you sit up?" 

Shakily, he does as he's told, the world spinning around him like it's ending. The only anchor he has is the soft touch of Ren's hand on his face, pressing against his forehead. As he raises the stone bowl to Goro's mouth, Ren looks at him with pity. 

"Drink it." The phrase is too kind to be an order, but it's compelling enough that Goro lets the liquid slide over his tongue. 

It burns his nose and tastes like tree sap, tripping his gag reflex. He writhes around, retching as he falls forward, his arms shooting out before he hits the ground. Bile climbs up his throat, and he groans. Ren holds his hair back, running his hand up and down his back. 

"I know, I know," He murmurs, "I'm sorry." 

Goro gags again, unable to speak. The overly-sweet scent burns his nose, and he digs his nails into the dirt, breathless. Ren shoves a large leaf into his mouth, keeping his hand over his lips to stop him from spitting it out. Goro claws at his wrist, and Ren falls backward, pulling Goro down with him. Thrashing against Ren's chest, Goro bitterly regrets that he didn't see it coming. Trusting someone in the Games is risky, and Goro bet high stakes. Just as he thinks he's about to die, Ren's hand falls from his mouth, and he sighs. 

"You can take the leaf out now. Is the nausea gone?" Ren asks. 

Surprisingly enough, Goro doesn't feel the need to heave his guts out. He sits up, turning around to face Ren, and he spits the leaf out. Running the sleeve of his coat over his mouth, he scowls at Ren. 

"You could have warned me about what you were going to do." He snipes. "I could have _killed_ you." 

Ren frowns. "And that poison would have killed you. You would have wanted me to explain what I was doing in _such_ detail, we'd be here until sunrise, and your stomach would be mush." 

Opening his mouth to argue, Goro moves to get up, but Ren pulls him back down, making him rest against the bedroll he laid out. "Oh, no, you don't. The fever hasn't stopped, but I've flushed the poison out of your system. Those plants were emetics, not fever-reducers."

"Fuck off, Ren," Goro growls, trying to ignore the dizziness, "who's going to keep watch?" 

Rolling his eyes, Ren cracks a small smile. "You can trust me." 

And, despite thinking that he was going to kill him, not even a minute ago, Goro finds himself believing Ren. He's not sure why. Maybe it's the fact that he's delirious. It could be that it's that, despite feeding him foul-tasting _hell-sap_ , Ren was gentle as he held his hair back and rubbed circles between his shoulder blades. Or, just maybe, it's the way that Ren looks at him. As Goro stares up at him, his head propped up against Ren's backpack, he watches him get comfortable leaning against a tree, fiddling with his knife. 

Four days into the Games, only three people are dead. Goro waits for the shot of the cannon, for the profile to be pasted against the sky, for the closure of knowing that there's one less person he'll need to protect Ren and himself from. Either Ren doesn't care, or he's content with being left in the dark, but Ren doesn't seem alarmed that the arena is densely populated. Occasionally, they see others moving behind the trees or across the ravine, but no blood is shed. It makes Goro uneasy and Ren far too relaxed. 

Goro shoots a deer. Ren looks away, gripping his jacket sleeve while Goro skins it, slicing its flank into strips of meat. After having stolen a pan from another camp, Ren offered to cook. Apparently, he still thought the ingredients would be delivered to them boneless and without fur, as his weak stomach couldn't handle watching Goro kill the animals. Nevertheless, he cooks the meat, humming as Goro moves the remains away from their current camp. 

Goro turns on his heel, dusting his hands off against each other. A branch snaps in the distance, and he stops, listening intently. Then, like thunder breaking through swollen clouds, the ax comes hurtling through the trees. 

"Ren?" Goro calls out, sprinting back to their camp. " _Ren_ , answer me!" 

The sound of grunting and cracking comes from ahead of him, and Goro draws his knife, darting over a fallen tree. Looking around for the assailant, he notices the drops of blood on the leaves, leading to behind the camp. Cursing under his breath, he hurtles past the abandoned stove, looking around for Ren. 

Goro turns the corner to find him pinned underneath a girl with dark brown hair. She presses the handle of her ax against his windpipe, a snarl on her face. Charging forward, Goro kicks the girl in the ribs, rolling her off of him. She grunts, skidding backward. Goro grabs Ren by the wrist, pulling him up and stepping in front of him. 

"Stay behind me, but if she injures me, run." He mutters, and Ren opens his mouth to protest. "Shut up and _do_ it, Ren."

The girl wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, glaring fiercely at the two of them. " _Move_." 

Goro doesn't speak, but he adjusts his grip on his knife. Still holding his hand, Ren moves closer, shakily whispering to him. "If she wants me, I can-" 

Snapping his head to the side, Goro looks Ren in the eyes. "You'll do _nothing_ , you hear me?" 

Ren's dark eyes focus on something behind Goro, and he pulls him back, narrowly avoiding a sweep of the girl's ax. Turning his gaze back to their assailant, Goro widens his stance, glaring intensely at her.

"Give him," The girl grits her teeth, "to me." 

"Go fuck yourself." He spits. "I'll kill you if you touch him." 

The girl cocks her head to the side, sneering at him. "He _killed_ Haru. He left her body in the river." 

The trees seem to bristle with anticipation, and a small camera drone flies in, buzzing like a gnat as it drinks in the encounter. Ren glances uneasily at it, then back at the girl, gripping Goro's hand tightly. Tightening his hold on the knife, Goro shakes his head. 

"I did." 

The girl screams a primal roar, lunging at him. "Then I'll kill you both!"

Pushing Ren behind him as he dodges her clumsy swing, Goro clips the back of her neck with the hilt of his knife, adding to the momentum of her lunge. She stumbles forward and then looks over her shoulder at the both of them, a crazed look in her eye. Goro frowned, every muscle in his body tensing. The knife is light in his hand, like an extension of his arm, and as the girl's ax comes arcing down over his right shoulder, he slashes a deep cut along her forearm. She screams in pain, the blood bubbling between her fingers as she grasps her arm. 

"Ren," He says, trusting the dark-haired boy enough to listen, "you have to go, now." 

Foolishly, the hand in his only grips tighter, and Ren refuses to move. "I'm not leaving you." 

Wincing in pain as he rolls his shoulder, Goro glances back quickly. "I'll find you again. Go" 

The girl gets to her feet, switching the ax from one hand to the other. Ren doesn't even have the time to run, to avoid seeing Goro kill her, before the knife plunges into her stomach and rip up her chest. The long, jagged gash peeks through her mauled shirt, bright scarlet in color. She chokes, blood dribbling from her lips. Goro withdraws the knife and lets her slump to the ground. 

"Fuck," She whispers, looking down at her bloodied stomach. She looks up at them both. "I - I'm sorry." 

Ren instantly rushes to her side, looking around for anything to stop the bleeding. What he doesn't see is the ax raised above his neck as he turns his gaze away from the girl. Before she can move, Goro's boot kicks her elbow to the forest floor, knocking the ax out of her hand and hearing a bone crack underneath the sole of his shoe. 

They head back to their camp, the feeling of being watched heavy on the backs of their necks. Silence fills the woods once again, save for the sizzling of meat on the makeshift stove. Blood dripping from his right arm, Goro lumbers over to the pot, stamps out the fire, and sloppily places the pan onto the flat surface of a rock. Ren rushes to his feet, catching him just as he falls, fishing around the pack for their medical kit. 

When he wakes up, Goro finds himself once again at the mercy of Ren's intense herbs. Panic flares in his veins as he realizes he can't move his right arm, and he sits up quickly, looking around for his companion. The jacket draped on top of him is smaller than his own, coming short on his left wrist. Peering into the darkness, Goro sees Akira sitting by the ravine, leaning back on his hands and staring at the midnight sky. The cannon breaks the silence, and the face of the girl Goro ripped open lights up the darkness, her name and age next to her picture. 

"Makoto," He murmurs, his eyes falling to her age. His throat constricts a little when he sees that she was born the same year he was. 

It vanishes after a moment, and he slowly gets to his feet, walking over to Ren. The dark-haired boy looks up at him, then back out at the ravine as Goro sits down. The chasm runs deep, and the shadows leak out of it into the distance, completely still and silent. 

Ren gives him a tired look, eyeing the bandaged shoulder. "You should be resting."

"Then who would be here to tell you how fucking stupid you are?" Goro states, raising his eyebrow. "I told you to run." 

Lowering his head in shame, Ren sighs. "I know."

"Then why did you stay?" Goro asks, his voice softening ever so slightly. 

Instead of answering the question, he looks up and asks his own. "Why did you volunteer?" 

Squaring his jaw, Goro looked out at the sky, watching tiny shapes of birds move in the distance. "I don't know why you're asking me this." 

"There doesn't have to be a reason-" Ren starts, 

"There is always a reason. You want something from me, something _on_ me." Goro says brusquely, cutting him off. 

For the first time since he's met him, Ren looks angry. He seems genuinely hurt, and as he huffs, turning around to face him properly, Goro thinks that it's oddly pleasant on his features. 

"Maybe," He frowns, "it's because I want to know you. _Properly_. You've been kind to me, really kind, and I want to know more about you."

Goro's mouth shuts abruptly. Speechless, there's nothing he can do but fiddle with a twig as Ren's dark eyes bore holes into his face. Sighing in defeat, he tosses the twig into the canyon, turning his head to look his companion in the eyes. 

"I want to get out of my District. If I win, my mentor will put in a word in the Capitol, and I get to leave District 5 behind." He admits, hoping it's enough to sate the dark-haired boy's appetite. 

Ren hums in acknowledgment, his eyes flickering in and out of contact with Goro's. "Who did you do it for?" 

Having never been asked that question before, Goro falters, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to come up with a suitable answer. He considers lying, but for some reason, the thought of deceiving Ren makes him feel sick. 

"My mother," He admits, once he's found the words. "I did it for my mother." 

As he nods solemnly in reply, his dark-haired protectee simply moves a little closer to him, their fingers touching lightly in the dirt. The contact sends an electric shock through his veins, and Goro realizes how the only person he's touched without the intent to kill for a week is Ren, whose chest rises and falls softly, the warmth of his skin permeating the cold night air. Wincing as he raises his arm, Goro removes the jacket from his shoulders, draping it over Ren like a blanket. 

"Won't you be cold?" He asks, looking up at him with round, concerned eyes. Adjusting the coat's collar around Ren's neck and shoulders, he shakes his head. 

"It was getting too hot under there, anyway." He lies, hoping the green shirts they were given are thermals. 

Ren says something that Goro tunes out because as he's fiddling with the coat, Goro spots the monstrous bruise over Ren's windpipe. Even in the dark, it's prominent enough that it causes him to let out a loud, "Holy shit!"

Immediately, Ren's shoulders hike up to his ears, and he looks around for the assumed threat, clinging to Goro's arm. "What? Where?" 

Slowly, trying not to break the stitches in his shoulder, Goro slips his hands underneath Ren's jaw, tilting his head back to get a better look at the bruise. The hand gripping his arm slackens, and as Goro turns his head to the side, Ren's eyes meet his. Instantly, he freezes, unsure of what to do next for damage control, because he is now _completely_ aware of why he's stuck around Ren. 

Ren, who can peel an apple in a perfect ribbon with a hunting knife, Ren, whose hands are fit to play an instrument so beautifully, it could be painted and still not live up to the moment itself, Ren, who hums while he's cooking. Ren, who, even when told to run, stays, gripping Goro's hand tightly. _Ren_ , even now, after all of it, still stays with him, unafraid in his hands. 

His hands guide Ren to face him as gently as possible, his fingertips brushing the dark, overgrown curls around his face. Softly, as if trying to preserve the silence, a small smile glows on his face.

"What do you see?" He asks, barely above a whisper. 

Goro swallows, acting purely on instinct. "You." 

Tilting his head to the side slightly, he leans forward, his lips brushing Ren's. A gasp of surprise draws through his mouth, but the hand closing around the fabric of his shirt is firm, pulling him closer. Goro obliges, his fingers sliding into the hair around his nape as the space between them closes. As expected, Ren smells like apples, dirt, and smoke, and his lip is split. Trying to avoid reopening the small cut, Goro draws back, running his tongue over his own lips. 

"You can move your arm again." Ren breathes, still gripping his shirt. 

Goro nods, words failing him. Without warning, Ren surges forward again, kissing him tenderly as his hands slide up from his chest to his shoulders, leaving a trail of fire across Goro's skin. Just as they break for air, Ren's head bumps on something hard enough that Goro can hear it ring. 

"What was that?" He asks, peering into the darkness. 

Ren rubs the back of his head, holding the object in his hands. "It's a sponsor gift. Hit me right in the head." 

He laughs softly, unscrewing the lid of the metal box. Goro shuffles forward, his knees bumping into Ren's. "What's inside?" 

Smiling brightly, he brings out a high-power flashlight and a first aid kit, looking up at Goro with hope in his eyes. "This is really good!" 

He holds up a vial of shimmering slime, uncapping the lid. Offering it to Goro to smell, Ren expectantly waits as he inhales. The vial smells like lemongrass and lavender. 

"This is a salve that will help your shoulder. It quickens the cellular regeneration." He says, pointing to the bandages peeking out of the rip in Goro's shirt. 

Ren brings out his flask of water, pours a little on his hands, then a small drop of antiseptic from the first aid kit. Then, very professionally, he starts to unbutton the green shirt, sliding it off Goro's shoulder. Looking away, the brown-haired boy flinches when the cold salve touches his skin, the low temperature battling the heat of his skin. Ren sits back, wiping his hands on the front of his shirt. 

"There," He announces, "should be all healed up in..."

He trails off, his eyes falling to Goro's injury, his smile brightening. Looking down himself, Goro watches the skin knit itself back together over the wound, the stitches falling away onto the ground. 

"Huh," He states, "I've never seen anything like that before."

Ren places it back in the first aid kit box, glancing up at Goro through his eyelashes. A beat of silence passes between them before either of them speaks, the dead quiet of the arena unsettlingly still. Placing a hand over Goro's, Ren looks up, a tragic sort of look in his eye. 

"Things are different now," He says, "aren't they?" 

"Yeah. For the better." Goro says, daring to hope. 

Ren's eyes soften. "For the better? You promise?" 

He nods. "I promise."

Goro wakes up to the distant sound of explosions and battle cries. He lifts his head up, then chokes when he sees Ren curled up against his chest, hands just above his heart. What harm would there be, he thinks, if they tried to sleep through the entire day? The other Tributes are rather busy blowing each other up with explosives, and as long as they're careful, they could get through the day without moving camp further along the ravine. As long as he ignores it, maybe it'll just go away. A small noise comes from below him, and Goro glances down to see Ren yawning, looking up at him from the pathetic excuse for a mattress. 

"Good morning," He greets him, smiling gently. 

Absolutely nothing is making Goro leave Ren's side at this point, so he does his best to get comfortable. "I'm going back to sleep."

Ren's laughter chimes like soft bells, and he inches closer, shutting his eyes once more. "I like that plan." 

And so Goro lets himself fall asleep, the most content he's been in a while. Hours pass by, the battle outside their bubble of peaceful sleep slowly fading away to background noise. Goro dreams of fields of wildflowers, all swaying in the wind as linen sheets hang from a line stretched between two apple trees. In the dream, his hair is tied back and free of grime. The scars on his hands have faded, and the dull ache of fatigue doesn't linger in his bones. He stands in a wooden doorway, leaning against it as he watches someone in the distance. Her hair flutters in the wind as she pegs laundry to the clothesline, humming a song in the wind Goro faintly recognizes. As his mother hangs the laundry over the tall grass, Goro feels young again, even though he dreams he's past the awkward, gangly form of a teenager. 

As she turns on her heel, carrying the empty basket on her hip, she smiles warmly. "Good afternoon. I see we've been busy." 

She looks behind him, and as he turns around, he sees Ren in the kitchen, slicing up parsley with a clean, bloodless knife. Wearing a knit sweater the color of olives, he looks up, his face and neck clear of the nicks and cuts the arena dotted around his face. He sets the kitchen knife down and walks over to Goro, slipping his hand into his.

"I'm glad you're back. How big is the haul?" He asks, and suddenly, a dead deer is lying on a cart by the door, oddly comforting for a corpse.

He pats its flank, and his mother sets the woven basket down, dragging it out to the shed across the yard by the antlers, humming the same tune she was a minute ago. As she walks away, the scene changes, and the domestic bliss of having a calm, warm household with people he trusts changes to something he's sure he's never experienced before but feels so terribly familiar, it makes his bones ache. 

Ren's hands loop around the nape of his neck, and as he leans against the bookcase, he laughs softly, as if trying to stay out of sight. Turning back to face Goro, he shifts upward, standing up straight to press a kiss to his mouth. Goro smiles into it, his hands resting gently on Ren's hips. He says something, a far away sound like noise traveling across water and through layers of stone, and even when Goro hears the bare bones of the sentence, he can't discern what the words are or what they mean. As Ren angles his head to kiss him harder, it's almost as if the sound is pulled out of him, the echoes growing faint. Nevertheless, they repeat over and over, echoing around his skull until he awakes, hearing them clearly. 

"Goro! Wake up." Ren shakes him awake, and immediately, Goro rolls to his feet, drawing his knife. 

Everything is dark. Goro can't see three feet in front of him, but the powerful beam of light from the torch they had recieved lights up the darkness for about a one-meter radius from where Ren is standing behind him. Shaking, the dark-haired boy holds the torch in one hand, and the ax used to hack into Goro's shoulder a day ago in the other. Blood is sprayed across his face, dripping from his cheeks into his mouth. 

He rushes over, checking Ren for any wounds. "Are you hurt? What happened?"

Swallowing, Ren stares up at him, fear etched on his face. "They drugged you. There was harmless sleeping medicine in the salve, but if I had been paying closer attention, I would have seen it."

Goro shakes his head, bringing his hand up to wipe the blood off of Ren's face with the sleeve of his shirt. "Ren, nothing here is your fault. Absolutely _nothing_." 

But he's not done, his dark eyes panicked as they scan Goro's face. "There was someone here. I got up, and you wouldn't wake up, so I grabbed the hatchet, and there was this boy - I didn't even mean to kill him. It was an accident. I swung at him, and it hit, and he fell over the side." Ren gestures to the ravine's edge, but nothing can be seen in the oppressive darkness. 

The hatchet falls to the floor, and Goro can do nothing but hold Ren in the dark as he cries, the scent of blood hanging thick in the air. 

The darkness doesn't lift. The pair stay in the same place for hours, Ren sobbing into Goro's chest as they sit in the dark, their industrial torch beaming light a short distance into the murk. Panicked yells and shouts come from the far off distance, and they wait in horrible suspense as footsteps echo through the trees, only to release the breaths they were holding when their hiding place is left untouched. 

When the cannons go off that night, the darkness finally lifts, the night sky slowly becoming visible again. Ren looks up, his face paling as the numerous shots go off in the distance. Goro counts them as they fire, half anxious and half relieved that only seven Tributes remain out of the twenty-four that started. He's lost track of how many days the Games have lasted, but he knows that the coming battles will determine a winner. Goro's throat goes dry as he pictures that word in his head. If you had asked him on the very first day that the Games had been announced, he would have told you that nothing could stop him from winning the Hunger Games. Goro's entire Games persona was based around his drive, his desire to win, and to dispatch anyone in his way. To the Capitol, he was a safe bet to place their money on, so he had the advantage. 

But now, as he looks down at the boy in his arms, the thought of winning makes him _sick_. There can only be one of them. There isn't a happy ending to this story, he realizes, and one of them would have to die. Seeing Ren with someone else's blood on his face was concerning enough that Goro knew he wouldn't be able to handle it if he was injured, let alone killed. 

A twig snaps behind them, and Goro leaps to his feet, knife in hand. In the dim light, he can make out two figures. As he steps in front of Ren, they step into the moonlight, and Goro frowns. A short, ginger-haired girl fidgets behind a taller, older man with slicked-back brown hair. 

"We won't hurt you," The older man says, holding his hands out in a show of civility. "How about we truce for the night?" 

Angling his knife, Goro narrows his eyes. "Who are you?" 

The man glances down at his weapon and then at Ren, who anxiously holds the sleeve of Goro's jacket. "My name is Sojiro. This is Futaba. I'm from District 12, and she's from District 4."

"Why are you, a 12, helping a Career?" Goro hisses, becoming more agitated by the second. "You're a mining District, for fuck's sake. She's living in luxury compared to you."

Defensively, Sojiro places a hand on Futaba's shoulder. "Why are you, someone who could easily win, wasting your time protecting him?" 

Anger flares in his eyes, and Goro hikes his shoulders up to his ears, tightening his grip on the knife. "Ren is _not_ a waste of time." 

"Then you understand why we're not attacking you," Sojiro says, nodding to Futaba. "I have someone to protect, as well." 

Just as Goro is about to lunge forward, Ren catches him by the shoulder, stepping out from behind him. "Goro, they're not going to hurt us. The least we can do is make sure they know the same of us." 

He stares fiercely at the pair, gritting his teeth. Finally, he turns away to look at Ren, taking his hand. "Fine. But if they even _joke_ about hurting you -" 

"I know, I know," Ren running his thumb over the scar stretching across the palm of Goro's hand. "I'll make a fire." 

Goro soon finds out that, no matter how small Futaba may seem, her stomach seems to be an object of infinite volume. After watching her wolf down her second bowl of soup Ren fed her, he sighs, turning to Sojiro. 

"So," He starts, "what happened?" 

Looking up, the man quirks an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" 

"Earlier today. The fighting." He clarifies, bringing out his knife to carve notches into a slab of wood. 

Sojiro glances at Futaba, then back at the hill between their camp and the battlefield. "There were landmines. Someone spread the rumor that the Feast was happening today, luring the Tributes into their death trap." 

Ren briefly stops stirring the soup, but neither Futaba nor Sojiro picks up on it. Goro glances over at him but quickly diverts his attention back to the older man. Smoothing back his hair, Sojiro looks at Futaba. 

"She's deaf in one ear now. I barely managed to get her out." His voice trembles slightly, and he fidgets with his hands when he speaks. 

Ren looks up properly this time, his gaze flickering over to the blood-matted ginger hair covering Futaba's right ear. "I could take a look at it if you want?" 

Sojiro tenses automatically at the sound of Ren's voice. Looking up slowly, the ginger-haired girl studies his face, and after seemingly making a silent decision, she parts her hair over her shoulder. The scabbed burns and blood-glistening skin makes Goro's stomach flip slightly, but Ren doesn't bat an eyelash, going through his herb pouch and taking his mortar and pestle from beside the fire. Sojiro watches in fascination as Futaba patiently allows Ren to paint her wound in a soupy concoction of leaves that smell like lemons. 

"Are you from the same district?" Sojiro asks, his eyes leaving Ren's face and traveling to Goro's instead. 

He shakes his head. "No. Ren's from District 11. I'm District 5." 

His eyes widening, Sojiro pales slightly. "You're from District 5? Like that other girl?" 

"You mean Sumire?" The brown-haired boy quirks an eyebrow. "What about her?" 

Futaba winces slightly as the paste coats a raw spot on her jaw, clenching her fingernails into her palms. Looking down at the ground, Sojiro lowers his voice. "The redhead is ruthless. Took down three men twice her size. Some pale, funny-looking man with blonde hair and both of the District 4 boys." 

"Shit." Goro laughs humorlessly. "I assumed she was hiding out somewhere, but you say she's, _what_ , killing people? I grew up with her. She cried when someone stepped on an ant." 

Sojiro tentatively places a hand on his shoulder, practically oozing paternal energy. "No one expects it, kid. I've seen my fair share of crybabies-turned-killers." 

"You've been in the Games before?" Goro asks, suddenly very aware of how open he and Ren were leaving themselves.

Shaking his head, Sojiro lets out a sigh. "No. My wife - Ex-wife - was in them once. She won the 2001 Game, but after her second, she couldn't take the survivor's guilt, and - "

Stopping, Sojiro looks into the fire, leaving Goro to piece together what happened next. He awkwardly clears his throat, patting him stiffly on the arm. "I'm sorry."

They don't speak for a while, watching Futaba hold her hair away from the paste as Ren wraps some gauze around her ear and jaw. 

They sleep in shifts that night, their fire put out and cold. Goro looks up at the simulated stars, twirling his knife in his hand. Rustling from behind him causes him to snap to attention, only to relax as Ren pads over to him, settling in the leaves as he sits down. He rests his head on Goro's shoulder, placing his hand in his. They sit in silence for a while, listening to the trees whisper in the wind. Tucking a long strand behind Goro's ear, Ren's fingers run through his hair, pushing it out of his face. 

"You must look so nice with your hair up." He muses, sweeping all of it into a small ponytail. 

Smirking down at Ren, he raises an eyebrow. "Oh?" 

As he hums in affirmation, a playful smile spreads across Ren's face. "Yes, I think so. You must have had everyone chasing after you back in your District."

"No, not particularly." He admits. 

"Good," The dark-haired boy chimes, "it means I'm the only one who'll get to do this." 

Ren places a kiss just below his ear, then another underneath his jaw, and another one, trailing his lips across Goro's neck. Gasping softly, the brown-haired boy drops the knife, instead pulling Ren closer by his waist as he slides into his lap. Tentatively, Goro slips a hand underneath Ren's shirt, his rough fingertips tracing lines into his skin. Flinching slightly at his touch, Ren draws back from the crook of his neck, pouting. 

"Your hands are _cold_." 

Goro grins. "You're warm. Perfect balance." 

Going quiet, Ren suddenly reaches behind Goro for his bag, taking out a long, silver locket. It glints and glimmers like solid moonbeams, and the sterling oval attached to it has a small stag detailed onto it. Tentatively, Ren places it in the palm of Goro's hand. 

"This is for you. It was mine, but I want it to be yours." 

Stuttering and blushing like a madman, Goro feels his face heat up. "Ren, I can't take this. I'd break it, or -"

Ignoring his protest, the dark-haired boy lifts the delicate chain over Goro's head, brushing his hair out of the way as he clasps it together. It's cold against his skin, but it warms up quickly as Ren presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. "It's yours, okay?" 

Smiling softly, Goro nods. "Okay." 

A flash of silver catches Goros's eye behind Ren's shoulder, and he reaches out to snatch it out of the air. Examining the sponsored gift with narrowed eyes, Goro looks up at his companion. 

"I'm sensing a pattern here." He says, his tone flat.

Ren's fingers thread through his hair, but he regards the tin with a certain kind of disdain that Goro hasn't seen on his face before. "I forget we have an audience." 

Goro opens the tin and clears his throat. "It's, uh..." 

Reaching into the metal box, Ren wraps his hand around the handle of a lightweight knife. It shines in the moonlight, but Ren looks at it with contempt. 

"Is it a warning?" He asks, looking down at the box for a note. Shaking his head, Goro does the same, finding nothing else in the box. 

"I'm not sure. Keep it on you, though, just to be safe." He says, closing the box. 

As he sets it down, Ren pauses, then takes it in his hands again, shaking it lightly. A dull rattle comes from inside, and he opens it up, prying at the edge of the container. Speechless, Goro watches the inside of the box separate from the outside, revealing a secret compartment. Inside the tin, pale white in the moonlight, is a small note printed on a card. Ren's eyes flick up to his, and he reads it aloud, his voice low. 

"Tomorrow is the Feast. Take what you can and get out of there. We're rooting for you in the Capitol." 

Running a hand through his hair, Goro huffs out a sigh. "Which one of us are they rooting for?" 

There is a swollen silence that falls between them as Ren looks to the leaf-strewn ground, fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket. Taking his hand in his, Goro runs his thumb over Ren's wrist in an attempt to comfort him. 

"Goro, tomorrow, there is a chance that I could -" Ren starts, his eyes focusing on the ground. 

He cuts the dark-haired boy off before he can finish. " _Don't_. Don't even think about that. We are going to find a way together, even if it means destroying this entire dome, you hear me?" 

Silently, Ren nods, hugging the long-haired boy tightly. Goro shifts, moving to be as comfortable as possible as Ren curls up on his chest, his hand resting over his heart. Before long, they're both asleep, tangled up in each other. 

Goro should know by now that good things don't last. He wakes up to the sound of screaming, launching to his feet and tugging Ren behind a tree to observe where their attacker is. His heartbeat going off like a drum, Goro squinted through the leaves, then promptly inhaled sharply. A tall man with dark grey hair was standing over Sojiro's body, a belt of throwing knives slung over his shoulder. Glancing at Ren, he motions for him not to move, then slowly retrieves his bow and quiver from the other side of the tree. He's about to take Ren's hand and sprint to the cornucopia, but when he reaches out, his companion is gone. Looking around frantically for the dark-haired boy, Goro leaps out from the leaves, adrenaline coursing through his veins like venom. 

"Get away from her!" Ren shouts from a small distance away, and when Goro moves to his right, he can see the scene unfolding before him. 

Standing in front of Futaba and brandishing the knife, Ren glares up at the man with a rage that Goro has never seen him in before. He sprints forward, kicking the man's knee with his heel and whisking Ren away by the arm before he can get up. 

"Goro, let go!" He protests. "We have to go back. Futaba's still there."

Ignoring his pleas, he turns around, grabbing Ren by the waist and sliding down the hill that led into the valley. Through the dirt and the tall grass, they stumble to a stop, panting. 

Fury and pain clearly painted on his face, Ren tries to run back, but Goro takes him by the arm and tugs him closer. " _No_. If we want to survive, we can't rely on anyone else, okay?"

There isn't a response. 

Sighing, Goro lets him go, running a hand through his hair. "I think - I want to make it out with you, Ren." 

His companion softens, taking his hand. Continuing, the brown-haired boy gazes earnestly at his face. "I had this dream, you know. We were safe, and we weren't in the city or in any of the Districts. We were just somewhere far out, and we were _happy_. I want that with you." 

"I know, Goro," Ren whispers. "I do, too."

Thunder rumbles through the sky, and another scream echoes through the trees, this one more chilling than the last, as it dies out with a wet choking noise. Goro looks to the horizon over the tall reeds, the clouds swelling over the marshlands surrounding the cornucopia. 

"I want to be happy with you, Ren." He says, gripping his hand once more. "But to do that, we need to get out of here. Follow me." 

Nodding gravely, Ren takes a step forward, then stops, letting go of Goro's hand. Tilting his head to the side, he presses a kiss to Goro's mouth, slipping his hand into his hair. Melting into it like butter to a hot knife, Goro hums into his mouth as Ren's tongue passes over his bottom lip, wrapping an arm around his waist. And, just like that, they're running again.

As they make their way through the tall grass, the first few drops of rain begin to fall. They're cold on Goro's face, and for a moment, he's worried that the Capitol is pouring acid down on them. The moment passes as the only thing the rain does is soak them to the skin. Soon, as they sprint through the muddy reeds, their skin is slick with water, and Goro has to hold Ren's hand tightly in order not to lose him in the maze of tall grasses. 

The sound of heavier, faster footsteps comes from their right, and it dawns on Goro that he, Ren, and the man with dark grey hair are the only ones left in the arena. If he had been in this situation at the beginning of the games, Goro would have been _excited_. Now, he's just terrified, the thought of winning at the expense of Ren causing sickly waves of disgust through his body. A throwing knife whistles through the air, and Goro ducks, glancing over his shoulder.

They run to the cornucopia, the tall man with the lizard tattoo chasing them through the marsh. Rain beats the reeds into the mud, and as his target makes himself clear, Goro takes his bow from his back. Ren, breathless, clings to his bag, looking for the hunting knife. Goro pulls an arrow from his quiver, then nocks it, aiming for the man's leg as he stands in front of Ren, who rifles through his pack. 

"Shit," He mutters, frantically pulling out a rope and a few useless tinderboxes soaked by the rain. Rain plasters his hair to his face, and as Goro releases the arrow, Ren calls out over the thunder. "I don't have it! It's gone. I must have lost it when we ran." 

Goro glances over his shoulder, looking down at Ren's empty hands, nods, and gestures towards the cornucopia. "There might be one over there. Watch out for land mines, but stay in front of me." 

The dark-haired boy nods, rain streaming down his face. Nocking another arrow, Goro walks backward, watching the man limp forward, clutching at his thigh. The mud swirls around his feet, sucking and sloshing around the soles of his boots. Grabbing Goro by the hood of his jacket, Ren pulls him onto the solid ground of the cornucopia, immediately searching for any kind of weapon to use against their assailant. 

Goro slips behind the wall for cover, the string not yet taut on his bow. His heart hammers in his ears, glancing over at Ren every now and then. When they win, he thinks, they'll get a house somewhere out of the city, away from the Capitol. Away from the Games. They could exist out of this hell without the threat of death looming over them like a dog. They could live, safe and sound, just with each other. 

A sudden clanging sound draws him out of his distracting daydream, and Goro thinks his heart stops for a moment, listening in tense silence for the footsteps of the man with the lizard tattoo. Then, just over the thunder, the clattering sound came again, this time from above them. 

"Fuck, he's on the roof," Goro curses, trying to track down which direction he's going, but with the thunder crashing above him, it's difficult to place where the noise is coming from. 

Then, as a large thump sounds from above him, Goro turns around, pulling the arrow to his cheekbone and letting it fly. It hits the man in the neck, and he falls to the floor, but his hand is empty, where it was closed around a throwing knife not even a moment ago. Blood like ice in his veins, Goro turns around to see Ren staggering backward, slumping back against the empty podium. A silver knife sticks out of his chest, blood seeping through the green fabric of his shirt. 

"Ren," Goro drops the bow, skidding to his knees beside the dark-haired boy, "shit, Ren, I'm-" 

Ren's chest rises and falls with jagged movements, and as he glances down at the knife, he cracks a gentle smile. "Hey. It's okay."

The rain drums on the roof and the stench of blood soaks the air, bitter and metallic. Raising a bloody hand to the side of Goro's face, Ren tucks his hair behind his ear, the blood blossoming on his wet skin like flowers. Goro wraps his arms around him, cupping his face as he starts to cry.

Through the tears, Ren smiles tenderly, his breathing ragged from pain. "Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?" 

"Ren, please," Goro chokes out, "hold on. They'll send down a medic or something. They'll understand." 

Slowly, he shakes his head, dark-eyes bright, even with the dagger in his chest. The pad of his thumb strokes circles around Goro's cheek, shaking slightly. Unable to keep it in, Goro chokes out a sob, pressing his forehead to Ren's. 

"Why was it _you_?" He swears, his hand cupping the nape of Ren's neck. 

Ren lets out a pained laugh. "Oh, Goro, it was always going to be me." 

Hot tears spill down his cheeks, mixing with the rainwater and blood, streaking his face with built-up grime. Bending down, he kisses Ren softly, leaning into his hand. Blood bubbles against his teeth, hot and metallic as it spills into his mouth. When he pulls back, Ren turns his head to the side, coughing a spray of scarlet over the stone. His hand slackens against Goro's face, the shaking starting to slow. 

"Ren, please, just hold on." Goro pleads, stroking the hair back from his face, "I - I don't want to win."

"I know," He replies. "I know." 

So many words that Goro feels as if he has to say swim in his head, but none of them come out, festering there like overripe fruit. Ren's skin grows cold underneath his hands, his breathing turning shallow and ragged. 

"Goro?" Ren asks, as if he's worried that the brown-haired boy would be anywhere else but at his side. 

"I'm here." He whispers, his voice trembling. 

"That dream you had," The dark-haired boy chokes out, blood bubbling on his lip, "tell me more about it." 

Swallowing back tears, Goro nods. "There - There was a house. It wasn't big, but the kitchen was good. You were there, and you... You were cooking. You were cooking and smiling, and you were safe." 

Coughing once more, Ren struggles to focus his eyes. As he reaches out into the air, his breathing quickens, and he starts to tense up in fear. 

"Goro? Are you -" 

Hugging Ren tightly, he nods. "I'm still here." 

Smiling in relief, Ren grips his hand. "I love you." 

"I love you, too," Goro replies, watching the brightness in Ren's eyes start to gloss over. 

After a moment, Ren's head lolls against the stone, and the distant whirring of hovercraft engines came faintly from the sky, bright lights fighting the lightning for dominance in the sky. Rain pelts the roof of the cornucopia, washing the blood from the stone. Around his neck, the locket Ren gave him feels as cold as ice, stinging his skin like a cold fire. In the grey light, Ren's pale skin glows like white linen. The blood is vividly red against his still-pink lips. Gently unclasping the locket from around his neck, Goro takes it in his blood-smeared palm and clings to it so hard, the metal clasp cuts into his skin. As the sun sets, bright lights comb through the marsh, no doubt looking for him. 

Goro turns around, Ren's locket in hand, and watches the hovercraft descend, whipping mud and marsh water everywhere. A ramp extends from the entrance, LEDs bright in the gloom. Gazing down at Ren's pale face, his throat closes up, and he presses a kiss to his forehead. Then, knowing that if he doesn't, then the Peacekeepers would force him, he gets up, leaving Ren's body behind. He marches forward, striding through the mud over to the hovercraft, the chain of the locket whipping around Goro's hand in the wind. 

**Author's Note:**

> my lovely friend beta'd this for me, and threatened to murder me if i killed off ren.  
> she won't go through with it, probably, but it's likely she'll ghost me for a day or two.


End file.
